


I Don’t Owe You Anything

by ohyouhandsomedevil



Category: The Smiths
Genre: 1980s, Asexual Character, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-24 01:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20017963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohyouhandsomedevil/pseuds/ohyouhandsomedevil
Summary: In which, Morrissey has a boyfriend, William, Johnny is a grumpy bastard, and both Andy and Mike are done with everything.





	1. I’m Not The Man You Think I Am

**Author's Note:**

> TW for slight dubious consent, implied sexual content and homophobic slurs. See end notes for more details of these warnings.

_October 1984_

Morrissey flailed his arms about on stage in the most artistic fashion. Even though he had not a care in the world what he looked like, he was truly gorgeous - as he was always. Two eyes from backstage were on him. William, his boyfriend of only a month, watched in awe as his lover uttered his dulcet tones to their baying audience.

Swinging a cluster of dying - closer to death than living - flowers, Morrissey’s lithe, pale form danced to the instrumental of  _How soon is now?_ whilst William continued to watch from afar. His eyes never left Morrissey for the entirety of the show. His gaze was only interrupted when Morrissey bounded off the stage and shyly kissed him on the cheek. William could have sworn he saw a glare on Johnny’s face, but quickly dismissed it as disappointment from finishing the gig - he always did prefer playing on stage than talking to people. 

“Bloody hell, y’all were great up there!” William commended the four - albeit sweaty - men, “especially you, Moz.”

The other man simply blushed as his lover lightly tapped his arse, muttering something indistinct under his breath - likely disapproval - before pushing damp hair out of his eyes. Wrapping an arm around him, William gently ushered the man away from the other three. 

“Well, I guess it’s just us three having a beer tonight lads,” Andy started with a slight smirk on his face, “maybe, Mozza will finally get lucky tonight!”

“You’re a right perv, Ands, I swear,” Mike groaned, dragging Johnny away towards the exit. 

“Come on, guys!” Andy shouted after the two men, “I’m not that bad!”

* * *

Andy watched Johnny as he repeatedly tapped his nails on the side of his chair. Morrissey was over an hour late to their practice session and it was obviously Johnny was worried about their friend. He wandered over to their tiny kitchen off to the right of their band room to see Mike pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. 

“I don’t suppose you could pour me a cup of tea, Mikey?” Andy asked, startling him to the point where Mike almost dropped his mug.

“Jesus, Andy!” Mike exclaimed, eyes widened, “can’t you make sound when walking into a room? Man, you’re gonna kill me one day.”

Andy only laughed at his  _clearly_ very distraught friend, and proceeded to grab the teabags from the cupboard. 

“Hey Mikey, have you, uh, noticed Johnny today? He’s been so on edge. Has been ever since that show a couple nights back,” Andy questioned, tipping some of the boiled water onto the teabag. 

Before answering, Mike took a sip of his coffee, hummed slightly, then replied, “It’s pretty obvious, innit? Johnny’s got the hump ‘cause Mozza’s banging someone that ain’t him.”

Andy choked on his tea, managing to splutter a near incoherent ‘what’, whilst Mike only raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You seriously haven’t noticed? God, our Johnny boy stares at the guy all the damn time! It’s a miracle he can even perform on stage these days with Morrissey prancing around half-naked,” Mike snorted, taking another loud slurp of his coffee.

“That’s a little bit queer of you, Michael,” Andy sneered, “got a thing for a Mozza as well, eh?”

Mike slapped Andy lightly on the shoulder, “That’s enough of that kind of language from you, Andrew, especially with those blokes from the pub. They can be real rough.”

Both Mike and Andy shuddered. Those men would beat up anyone that even looked gay, so using that kind of language wasn’t doing anyone any favours.

Soon, the two drifted into a comfortable silence, with only the intermittent sounds of slurping and soft chords echoing from Johnny in the band room.

A loud banging of two doors being harshly opened broke the silence. Morrissey flung himself into the band room in a loud fashion, clutching at his worn satchel, no doubt containing some poetry that could later be crafted into music. Andy and Mike made their way out of the kitchen to see a rather dishevelled Morrissey. Dark purple and red bruises littered his neck, hair defying gravity - even if though that is not strange, it had a “just got out of bed” look to it, which was most unusual for the man. 

Johnny stared coldly at him, “You’re late.”

“I, uh, yes, I’m sorry. Busy morning,” Morrissey threw his satchel onto a ratty leather sofa and made his way to the mic. 

“Dude, you don’t look so good, you okay?” Mike asked the older man, whose frame had succumbed to a great slouch.

Mike thought he was being ignored until two tired eyes met his and assured the other that he was fine. He didn’t believe his friend. The bags under his eyes were apparent that he had another sleepless night - seemingly not by choice, but by the man who was something to care for him. Mike decided it wasn’t his place to say, so not  wanting to start an argument, he made his way to his drum kit. 

“He was probably too busy getting fucked by his whore,” and with that, the room went dead silent, “Come on, it’s so obvious! You’re not fooling anyone, mate.”

Morrissey’s mouth went agape to a menacing frown in a mere few seconds. The guilty party - Johnny - could only smirk with triumph.  Storming past Johnny, Morrissey yanked his satchel off the couch and marched out of the room. About ten seconds later, the downstairs door crashed to a close with an almighty  slam , leaving the three men alone once more. 

Huffing, Andy whacked Johnny on the head, wiping the smile off his face, “What in the hell did you say that for? He obviously didn’t want to get banged by William, you know how he is! You always have to ruin everything with your big mouth.”

Johnny’s face fell as his two friends left him on his lonesome in the, now very quiet, room. He could only sigh and resumed working on their latest song. 

* * *

Clenching onto his satchel over his head, Morrissey made his way down an alley way through the pouring rain. He hadn’t expected his fellow bandmate to call him out on his lateness, but Johnny had always been a stubborn little prick. With the pattering of rain on cobblestone and his loud thoughts, Morrissey hadn’t noticed the footsteps behind him. Two strong hands grabbed his back and pinned him down onto the cold, stony ground. 

“Get off me!” Morrissey yelled, struggling to escape his attacker’s harsh grip.

A familiar voice broke through the heavy rain, “Not unless you come with me.”

“William, is that you? What in the hell are you doing?” Morrissey exclaimed, confused.

Harshly dragging him off the ground, William replied, “Because you left me unsatisfied this morning.”

Choosing to stay quiet, Morrissey scrunched his face at the memory and tried to wriggle free. It wasn’t until he was almost out of William’s grasp that he was clonked on the head. 

Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detail for Trigger Warnings:  
> \- The use of qu**r is used towards characters in a mildly aggressive scenario. Please note that these slurs will not be censored in the text.  
> \- Morrissey is seen to have hickeys on his neck and when asked about it, he looks pained, expressing to the reader that he was in a sexual scenario that he wasn’t comfortable with.  
> \- There is no graphic description of sexual content, however, characters talk about sex and there are instances where it is clear that a character has had sex by their appearance or other indicators.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I’ll be posting the next chapter very shortly!
> 
> This is my first published piece of fiction, so feel free to give your appreciation in kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this.
> 
> This piece hasn’t been beta read, so please let me know if there are any errors. Also, constructive criticism is definitely welcome! I adore writing, so I’m also open to new ideas about my writing style!  
> ~ Felix :)


	2. Take Me When You Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mild violence and homophobic slurs in this chapter (see the end notes to find out more about these warnings).

Johnny locked up their rented band room and headed out of the building. It was well past ten o’clock now and he wasn’t looking forward to the walk back to his gloomy flat. He regretted what he’d said to his friend. He’d just been so jealous of William that he let his mouth run wild.

Why did he always ruin everything? 

Walking down an alleyway, Johnny noticed something next to a brick wall - a shirt. Why on earth would someone leave their shirt? Especially in this weather. It was almost November now, so it the weather was getting rather bitter now. It made no sense whatsoever. He picked up the shirt - it was on the big side, and even though it was floral and pink, it wasn’t a woman’s shirt. 

_Huh,_ Johnny thought to himself, _wasn’t Moz wearing that shirt today?_

_Shit._

* * *

The first thing he knew was that the ground was cold and hard. Eyes heavy, Morrissey refused to open them, hearing only the _splish splash_ of water coming from the left somewhere. He felt a gust of wind breeze against his chest; he realised that he no longer donned a shirt. 

“I know you’re awake, my love,” a voice - William - piped up. 

Reluctantly, Morrissey blinked his eyes open. 

“There’s those beautiful blues!” William grinned cruelly.

”What are you going to do with me?” Morrissey snarled through gritted teeth. 

Tapping his fingers against his crossed arm, William replied, “Well, I haven’t had you properly, so I’m going to keep you here and whenever I want to have my way with you, you’ll be here - waiting and wanting like the faggot you are.”

_Fuck,_ Morrissey thought, _I had to pick the psycho to date. Jesus Christ._

Morrissey gulped, “Someone will come looking for me. My band. They— They’ll realise I’m gone. You won’t get away with this.”

William only laughed and walked away, out of a steel door on the far side of the room. 

* * *

Still clutching at the shirt, Johnny arrived at Andy and Mike’s flat. After taking a detour there, Johnny was rather out of breath, so when Mike opened the front door, he looked at Johnny puzzled. It wasn’t until he noticed the shirt that he put two and two together with Johnny’s petrified face. 

“That bastard is going to pay,” Mike growled, “Andy! Get your shit together. We’re gonna end that piece of crap.” 

Andy walked into the hallway, hair sticking up in random directions and wearing ratty pyjamas, “But I want to go back to bed.”

”Piss off!” Mike reprimanded the other man, “M is in danger.”

”I’ll get dressed then,” Andy responded with great reluctance.

Finally regaining his breath, Johnny spoke up, “For the love of god be quick. I’ll murder you if anything happens to him.”

”Yeah, yeah, save me the lecture, ” Andy groaned, “we all know you’re in love with the bloke.”

Johnny turned bright red and stammered, “Wh— What?”

Andy and Mike rolled their eyes at each other and replied in unison, “It’s so god damn obvious!”

Somehow, Johnny managed to blush an even darker shade of crimson, “That’s so embarrassing! I thought I was hiding it well.”

”God no,” Andy exclaimed, “anyway, I think we have a damsel in need of his Prince Charming?”

* * *

The rope that bound his hands behind his back was really starting to itch against his wrists. Morrissey struggles against the restraints, but had no luck getting out of them. Eventually, he sighed and gave up. His head lolled backwards, hitting the bricks behind him.

With no idea when William was coming back, Morrissey was getting nervous. Seeing as his band mates weren’t too fond of him at the moment, it was unlikely that anyone would care to come to his aid.

A creaking of the steel door tore Morrissey out of his thoughts and he lifted his head to look. 

“Johnny?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> \- The use of the slur f*ggot is said in an aggressive scenario. The slur will also be uncensored in the text as well.  
> \- There is a threat of a violent situation (rape is also threatened, but nothing comes of it).
> 
> And there’s another chapter! As always, kudos and comments are appreciated - I’d love to know your thoughts or any constructive criticism y’all may have!  
> ~ Felix :D

**Author's Note:**

> Detail for Trigger Warnings:  
> \- The use of qu**r is used towards characters in a mildly aggressive scenario. Please note that these slurs will not be censored in the text.  
> \- Morrissey is seen to have hickeys on his neck and when asked about it, he looks pained, expressing to the reader that he was in a sexual scenario that he wasn’t comfortable with.  
> \- There is no graphic description of sexual content, however, characters talk about sex and there are instances where it is clear that a character has had sex by their appearance or other indicators.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I’ll be posting the next chapter very shortly! 
> 
> This is my first published piece of fiction, so feel free to give your appreciation in kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this. 
> 
> This piece hasn’t been beta read, so please let me know if there are any errors. Also, constructive criticism is definitely welcome! I adore writing, so I’m also open to new ideas about my writing style!  
> ~ Felix :)


End file.
